


Reverse Option

by cornelius



Series: Bump and Run [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cheerleader!Dean, M/M, NFL!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 15:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2697590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornelius/pseuds/cornelius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's POV of the events in Chapter 13 of Bump and Run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reverse Option

Closing the door on Dean was one of the hardest things Castiel had ever done. He wanted to take Dean up to his bedroom and wrap him up in blankets and bask in the affection Dean so freely gave him -- but Dean _couldn’t_ be here when his mother inevitably called. He was certain that she had seen the broadcast (Dean would argue that she probably engineered it), so a terse lecture was sure to follow any minute. 

Rooted to the floor, Castiel stood in his foyer and clutched his cell phone. He was powerless to do what he wanted to do; he couldn’t go after Dean and he couldn’t track down the people who did this to him and he couldn’t run back to the car and stop _this_ from ever happening.

His phone rang ominously, a warning siren for the oncoming maelstrom that was his mother’s phone call. He let it ring twice, three times, four times before giving in and answering; there was no point in delaying the inevitable.

“Castiel,” Naomi said without waiting for a hello, “I trust that you’ve seen the mess _you_ made.”

Castiel sighed, rubbing his eyes, “Yes.”

Castiel heard Naomi take in a large breath on the other end of the line. She was centering herself, preparing herself for taking action. “We can still fix this, Castiel,” Naomi said evenly, “First of all, it’s time to cut this _boy_ out of your life.”

Castiel knew it was coming, but it still hurt to hear his mother’s solution. Dean had so wrapped himself up in Cas’ life, crawled to all the empty spaces and filled them with _life_. Cutting Dean out of his life was too much to even consider. “Dean’s a good man. I can reason with him,” Castiel pleaded, “We can be more careful.”

Castiel imagined if his mother had been there in person, she would have looked him squarely in the eyes, a look that always brooked no argument. Naomi sighed, “If you had just listened to me in the first place, we wouldn’t be here in the first place, but now, we have to do damage control. You’re a free agent next year; no team is going to want a _gay_ player in the locker room.”

Castiel flinched. He had never talked to his mother about his sexuality (at this point, he was sure she thought that he wasn’t interested in _anybody_ ), and her reaction _hurt_. Dean tried to play it cool when it came to his own bisexuality, but Castiel knew that every suspicious look from a stranger, every taunt about being a cheerleader, and every lingering touch from Castiel set off a small, but perceptible, freak out in Dean’s mind.

Naomi continued, somewhat softer, “I don’t care about who you like, but the American public _does_. Do you want to bring down everything we’ve built? Everything we’ve worked for since you were a child? For some _boy_?”

This was an old tired argument; as far as his mother was concerned, Castiel was never the right kind of football player, or really the right kind of man, to appease the red-blooded American football fan. Her frustrations with his personality and personal choices had stopped hurting Castiel ages ago, but this time, something snapped in Castiel. There were men _still in the NFL_ that regularly beat their wives and their careers were fine, but because Castiel loves a man, that’s what’s _too much_.

Castiel opened his mouth to shout, “It doesn’t matter! I don’t care about the money! I care about him!” but his mother cut him off before he could even start.

“The deal is no more Dean or I let you fix this on your own,” Naomi said curtly and immediately hung up.

When the phone call ended, Castiel threw his phone across the foyer. He fumed, clenching his fists and pacing back and forth. He stalked over to his phone, the anger whooshing out of him as he bent over to pick it up, still intact in its practically indestructible case. The feeling of powerlessness returned; he couldn’t even have the smallest effect on his phone.

He sighed and fell to the floor with a thud. His considered his mother’s ultimatum: she could move back in temporarily and fix this mess that he had gotten himself into or he could try to navigate the PR circus alone, which would surely cause the end of his career. He chuckled bitterly to himself; there wasn’t really a choice to make. 

Castiel decided the best way to make a decision was to be as objective as possible. Barring any major repercussions from this _scandal_ , he knew that as long as he stayed healthy, he had at least another five years -- ten if he was lucky -- playing professional ball. He also knew that the Angels were keen on renewing his contract (though they were being cagey about the whole process since they didn’t want too many high dollar competing offers). At his age and value to the team, he surmised that he could probably expect a three- to five-year deal.

Castiel frowned as his thoughts turned to the unknowable variable that was _Dean_. Objectively speaking, it was impossible to know how much more time he had with Dean. Dean was only eighteen months away from graduation, and after that was a mystery. Castiel knew Dean wanted to be a physical therapist, but no one could know at this point if he’d go to the KU medical school or elsewhere or not even start school until he got a little experience. And even if he did get his Doctor of Physical Therapy from KU, after graduation, Dean could go anywhere, do anything, be with anyone. There were just too many unknowns to justify factoring Dean into his decision.

Still, the thought of giving up Dean was unbearable. Dean had shown him a different way, a better way really, to live. Dean had been the first to laugh _with_ Castiel, to respect Castiel’s desires and wishes, and to make Castiel feel like he had a home rather than a perfunctory, if not a little extravagant, shelter. Dean had brought joy and excitement and fun into his otherwise monotonous existence. The only other times he felt such exuberance were when he was on the gridiron, locked in a mental battle with a player on the other team’s offense. 

Castiel stared forlornly at his cell phone. He would have to end things with Dean. 

It was the _right_ thing to do for both of them, Castiel reasoned. Castiel could go back to singularly focusing on football; after all, what his whole life had been dedicated to. And Dean, beautiful, vibrant Dean, the man who shined so brightly even the first time Castiel saw him, could move on to other, better people. Dean had so much love to give, and Castiel felt like he was holding Dean back. 

Castiel had to think that Dean would be fine. He had Sam and Bobby and Charlie and even Benny (though Cas still didn’t really like him; their only meeting had been very _tense_ ) to support him. Dean’d bounce back from this in no time and live the rest of his life like he was supposed to, normal and quiet.

Castiel wondered if he’d ever recover. 

\---

It took Castiel a few days to work up the courage to make the call. Naomi had already moved back in and taken over her old room. He tried to avoid her as much as possible, not wanting to see the disappointment in her eyes, as he went through the routine she laid out for him.

In some twisted way, the return to his old life was comforting for Castiel. This was the life he was used to, constant hard work unperforated by dates and sex and watching old episodes of sci-fi television and tenderness and laughing and _Dean_. 

And it’s not like it was easy to avoid his mother. She was on a damage control war path, giving statements to the press about Castiel’s privacy and how the pictures were of a friend and “Isn’t _the game_ what matters?” Whenever she spoke, he grit his teeth and put his head down and suffered through it. Before too long, people would move on to something new, and then maybe Castiel could move on, too.

He finally felt he was calm enough and prepared enough to talk to Dean the first Friday of December. He sat in the library, curled up in his comfiest vintage armchair and letting the rows and rows of books behind giant ferns calm him.

He pressed the button to call Dean, and as the phone rang and rang, part of him hoped it would just go to voicemail.

“Cas,” Dean breathed excitedly and Castiel’s heart broke a little.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said, hoping that his voice wouldn’t crack and give him away. 

“So, what’s the news?” Dean asked, and Castiel could hear the anxiety in his voice. Castiel desperately wanted to fast forward to the moment this was all over.

“Dean,” Castiel sighed, “My mother has moved back in with me for the time being. We’ve agreed that she is best equipped to mitigate this situation. I think it might be for the best that we spend some time apart while this … incident blows over.”

“What?” Dean asked, stunned.

Castiel swallowed, going over his practiced speech in his mind, “I just want what’s best for you and I don’t think being involved with _me_ and this _situation_ is good for you --”

“So this is how it is, then?” Dean cut him off, shouting, “You do whatever mom tells you to do? Dammit Cas, you’re a grown-ass adult. You can make your own decisions.” 

Castiel felt gutted. He had agonized over this decision, trying to do right by Dean, and Dean threw it all back in his face.

Dean continued and it felt like a slap in Castiel’s face, "So I guess it was first chance away from mom, and you decided to experiment with a male cheerleader.”

"You are not an experiment, Dean," Castiel said emphatically before sighing deeply. Castiel felt the first prickles of tears between his eyes; he’d never been so hurt before in his life. "Is that what this is- what I am to you?" Castiel could hear the crack in his voice, but he didn’t care. He’d never cared for anyone the way he cared for Dean, and he couldn’t bear to hear Dean say their relationship was just a fling.

Castiel held his breath, waiting for Dean to answer. “No, of course not,” Dean finally said and Castiel let himself feel the smallest flicker of relief.

Dean continued, “But how do you think this sounds to me? How I feel?! You’re just dropping me at the first sign of trouble. Dammit, Cas, everyone knows now, about me --.”

“Knows what about you, Dean?” Castiel snapped; of course Dean would be more worried that people would find out he’s not the man he pretends to be than about Castiel struggling with this decision. “That you like men? As you would say, ‘boo hoo grow up’.”

“Cas --” Dean breathed. 

“My mother thinks -- no,” Cas paused, collecting himself, “I think I need to focus on my performance. I think this course of action is for the best. This is what’s best for both of us. Please know that I’ve enjoyed our time together, Dean.” Castiel tried to put as feeling into his words as possible. Talking with Dean just confirmed that this was the right decision, for _both_ of them. Dean could go back to school, back to dating women, back to a carefree, Castiel-less existence. 

“Cas, please don’t.” Dean pleaded, but Castiel stayed resolute.

Resolve back in place, Castiel finished by wishing Dean the best in his cheerleading and studies. He barely heard Dean say, “Cas, stop,” before cutting Dean off.

“Goodbye, Dean.” Castiel hung up, calmly marched up the stairs to his bedroom and didn’t emerge for the rest of the day.

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as what I wrote so I could keep things straight for myself. I know a lot of my readers really wanted Cas' perspective during this scene, so I cleaned up the (very messy) original version to give you Cas' side of the breakup. I hope this makes the last chapters clearer!


End file.
